TF2 Shorts
by UnholyVisions
Summary: A bunch of short stories. Trying to keep each less than 2k words, not connected/chronological. Just silly little things. Rated high for swearing and violence.
1. They've All Graduated High School

**Original idea came up when I got fed up with school work. Re-worked the original to something tolerable.  
Scout-y boy swears- just a warning. I don't own anything either. Not even my own copy of TF2. **

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Scout was less than pleased with his current situation, which most would say was stupid. His team had just won several days of intelligence stealing, and they had taken out four of the five the hardest members of BLU, two of whom met an untimely end with Scout's own shotgun. They were in the middle of a three-day cease fire until BLU got replacements, and RED was getting a shipment of upgraded weapons. Life at the RED base was the top of the line right now, and Scout loathed it.

It wasn't that he was unhappy with the success, it was the break the success brought that irked him. It wasn't just the lack of action- Soldier kept them all busy enough with drills and Sniper kept trying to get Scout to take aiming more seriously- it was the letter he received.

Scout sat and fumed over the paper from the envelope. He was holed up in the briefing room at a large table with the intelligence collected littering the other end. He huffed and flipped a page of his own notes over and roughly pushed the chair back.

"Man, fuuuucccckkkk this!" He shouted, "SPY! BLU SPY IN THE BRIEFING ROOM!" He knew the chances of that doing any good to amuse him during a cease fire were slim, but it beat staring at the words printed on the letter from home. Not satisfied with the lack of members rushing to him, he scowled and tried a newer tactic.

"Medic!? Yo DOC! HARD HAT-? I NEED A FREAKING DISPENCE- OW!" He turned and held a hand over the back of his head. "The hell was that for?"

"For causin' and uproar. Why the hell do you need a dispenser in the middle of a gosh darn cease fire?" The Engineer glared at the boy, sticking his thumbs through his belt loops.

"Well..." Scout turned and stood, "I don't really need a dispenser..."

"Well, you better need something. Spah is pissed with yer interruptions."

"I never called for him." Scout tried his best to look innocent.

"Yer loud enough BLU can probably hear you. You better spit out what you want before you start spittin' out teeth." Engineer's hand moved over to the loop where his wrench sat.

"Eh, well..." Scout swallowed hard, nervous now. "You know how this is a frickin' war right? Well, I didn't exactly 'graduate' before signin' up, and they're sending me freaking math problems! I'm fighting to keep Ma and my brothers and my whole town out 'a BLUs reach, and they give me math! And Grammar, and History!"

Engineer couldn't help but chuckle at Scout's predicament. The boy fumed and cursed, crumpling the paper in his hands and slamming it down on the table.

"Now, now, calm down Scout. Can't be too bad." Engineer stopped laughing, but couldn't wipe the smile off his face. "Your Ma has good intentions, they just want ya to be able to do something once the war's over. Lemme see 'em..."

Scout put his arms over top of the paper and scooted to the side, being stubborn and petulant. Engineer snapped at him to stop being such a brat and wrestled the crumpled papers from him.

"Now, I ain't gonna do it for ya. I'll help if you need it that badly." Hard Hat looked the page over. "Boy, this is simple! Quit whining and get to it. You don't need no help with this, I seen you solve harder problems."

"I'm not whining, I'm just sick of starin' at it! And its different, its not like I'm buyin' anything good- its just answering for the sake of answering! There's no point to it!"

"Its easier than tryin to figure out how fast you gotta run from BLU base to the bridge with the BLU Demo linin' stickies up and down."

"But its boring!" Engineer sighed, having already foreseen this as the base of the problem. "I mean, I don't have to out run anything, I'm not gonna get anything for doin' it, so what's the point?"

"You'll graduate if ya finish it." Scout grumbled something inaudible. "Look, I ain't gonna have any sympathy for ya, neither is the kind ol' Doc, or the Spy. We all graduated college, and everyone else at least graduated high school. Now, just finish it- preferably before we have another meetin' with the BLUs, alright? Hell, before dinner would be great, we still gotta debrief from the other day's winnings."

Scout grumbled a bit more before picking up the pencil that was abandoned under a pile of paper. Engineer didn't leave until Scout was unhappily scratching out the answers.

Once Engineer left, Scout planned to book it outside. He waited a minute or two after the door closed before getting up and sneaking to the exit.

"Boy, you better be over here to open the door for me if anythin'" Scout nearly jumped out of his skin as he pulled the door open; revealing Engineer with his arms filled with blueprints and models. "Can't trust you to sit still long enough- "Twitchy little gremlin" I believe was what Sniper called ya."

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**Its terrible, but I wanted to get something up. :/ Review and critique please ;D**


	2. Won't Find Out

"_He won't find out."_

"_Promise?"_

"_He won't find out what I know."_

"I copied this out for you." Demoman dropped the book down in front of Spy. "You asked, an' I trust you… Not like I got any'ne else to right now. Don't make me regret it, Spy." He looked over to the door longingly before dragging out the chair. It scraped on the ground and he let himself fall into it. Demoman slumped down until his chin just barely hovered above the table.

"Having zat hard a time?" Spy asked around the cigarette in his mouth, stretching a hand out to lightly grasp the tattered notebook. He pulled it closer and held the stained cover open while his eyes darted across the first page. "Your writing is horrific. I'll do my best to read it, though." After not receiving a response, Spy glanced over at the heap of a Scotsman across the crate that was serving as a table.

"Jus' hard without my drink right now… Like if they took away your smokes." He heaved a sigh and toyed with his eye patch. "Whotever Medic's got in 'is head is wrong… Jus' it ain't right. Ah, I hate bein' sober."

"Zat is probably ze type of thing you want to avoid saying if you want to get out of your probation period and to shake whatever thoughts out of Medic's head." Seeing expressions behind the mask were usually difficult, but Spy seemed to be going out of his way to make the worried arch of his eyebrows and slight frown more noticeable.

"Wot do they expect? They've taken everythin' from me! Can't even call me mum or write her, nothing to do all day, I don't even have my damned explosives to tinker with." He let out a harsh bark of a laugh slip out with a sneer. "Ah'm goin' back to mah room."

Spy flipped another page in the book, the dates were old and the writing new. Copied journal entries were scribbled out onto the pages. So much of it seemed foreign, and it felt much to personal to be read in such a place. Spy straightened out in the abused sofa; this sort of taboo feeling rarely bothered him anymore, it was his job to infiltrate and read top secret and personal files. Still, reading something like this about one of your own teammates, written in his own shorthand and being his own thoughts…

"These are over six years old…' Spy whispered, reminding himself. "Some are over a decade…" He sighed and continued reading.

_I remember when Da lost his other eye. Not that big of a deal in out family, bad luck at work. Bad luck in general. I lost my own bloody damned eye as a kid trying to fuck around with Nessie- well that's not really relevant I guess…_

_Da's anniversary was last week, that's why I canceled, Mum still doesn't really know much. She spent the evening like she normally did. I don't remember much… Just remembered I started drinking around noon and woke up the next day wishing I went out drunk and died. Basically the same._

An older entry written out of chronological order caught Spy's eye. Demoman must have copied them out as he saw in his own old journal. This was dated about the time the therapy would have started and was more than a year older than the entry he had just read.

_I'm stuck here. Being fucking forced to write with some motherfucker over my shoulder and nothing of my own here. They won't even let mum in or let me call her. I just want to say goodbye because this whole business ends one of two ways. They're institutionalizing me or I'm getting out and blowing my body to bits all over the field. Nobody is going to win this._

Spy knocked tentatively at Demoman's door. The other member cracked it open a fraction, glaring out. Spy pulled the book out from his suit and held it out; it was time it was returned, he had already made his own legible copy.

"I was just bringing zis back, I've finished reading it." He kept a stoic face, neutral. Demoman looked at his apprehensively before opening the door more.

"Aye. And…?" He leaned in the door frame, his stance telling of how weary he was with the situation in the base. "Are you on Medic's side and tryin' to get me locked up in a loony bin or are you jus' goin' to shun me too?"

"You expect too much harshness, I simply wanted to talk to you after reading it."

"That's wot they said… Look, jus'- I'm not interested. I go' over it, I go' better." He grit his teeth, "I jus' want mah damn drink back an' I wan' t'be able t'do me job."

"I understand zat, but Medic doesn't, does he?" Spy took a step closer, letting his hand hold the book loosely at his side. He tried to make eye contact, but was greeted with the other man's stubborn downcast stare. He stooped a bit and looked up to catch his eye. "S'il vous plaît," The Scotsman's eye slowly left the Spy's and turned back into his room. "Merci." Spy walked in unobstructed.

"Und vhat is zis?" Medic held up a folder, eyes straining at the faint blue silhouette that was retreating from his office. "Unmarked papers? A report on ze RED team? Vhat?"

"Information on Demoman's condition, written by ze man himself." Spy let his cloak drop and leaned against the wall, tilting his head to look at Medic from across the room. "All old, self-written evaluations and thoughts while he was…" Spy lit a cigarette while he stalled. "Under care."

"He vas 'under care'?" Medic quirked a brow, taking in the Spy's slack posture and dark eyes. "Vhat does zat mean?"

"Its for you to figure out, but he is doing quite fine. Ze changes in his person are due to idleness." He took in a large breath to fight off a yawn. "In fact, I believe he is busy with ze laborer at ze moment, back to himself without ze overbearing stench of alcohol." He pushed himself off the wall and shrugged. "As ze doctor, all decisions have finality with you on zese subjects, but we have a match again with RED soon… I really would hate to lose again. Its bad for ze team's morality. Think about letting him work again."

"Ach! Engie, you're a bloodeh genius! Those damn REDs won't even know wots happening!" Demoman clapped his hand onto Engineer's back, winding the shorter man.

"Ah, it ain't nothing' much. Just tweaking the sentry's system and matchin' it up with ol' Solly's ideas on the weak spots of the base… It is a pretty good idea, and it might work, but its still in a testin' phase… We won't know until tomorrow."

"Gentlemen," Spy waved his hand lazily, "Tomorrow is our second last battle at zis post, ready?"

"Well, I'll be tryin' my darnedest to give 'em hell." Engineer whacked his wrench against his palm, grinning. "And Demo's been a great help in preparing everythin' I needed help with."

"Spy, you got tae see wot this bloody brilliant boyo thought up! It'd be amazing' tae see it workin'!"

"Ah, well, I'll look forward to it zen." Spy straightened his back a bit, suppressing the urge to stretch any more than that. "I'm going to see if we have any news on our new post yet. Laborer, mind if I borrow your assistant?"

"Not at all, Spah, we've just about finished up." Engineer turned and continued what he had been working on.

"Have you been writing for me again?" Spy pulled out another cigarette to fight off his fatigue as he spoke.

"Aye, I've been doin' it. Every night." Demoman stuffed his hands in his pockets as he fell in stride beside Spy. "As long as you donnae have mah notebook…"

"Mm…" Spy took a moment to enjoy his nicotine fix. "And is zere anything which you wish to share, or would you prefer to wait until tonight again?"

"You seem out o' sorts, we donnae have to tonight…" Demoman stole a side glance at Spy. The man was still walking with slack posture and his clothes were ever so slightly wrinkled. "One night isn' tha'big deal…"

"Don't fret, I'm fine," Spy cleared his throat and straightened unconsciously. "Tonight, then."

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A/N: I sort of want to expand on this idea… Add in the night sessions, go more into the past, etc. I guess I'll make a story line if I want to. Lemme know if its worth pursuing. Its a bit more serious than the first chapter~_  
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